


In This World or the One Below

by one_irradiated_muppet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Mermaids, there be fuckin in these here waters, yaarr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-02-17 16:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_irradiated_muppet/pseuds/one_irradiated_muppet
Summary: Sailors warned of maidens out at sea, waiting to lure men to watery graves with their beauty and siren's song.Jamison had heard the tales, but when he finally met a mermaid, her intentions didn't seem bad at all.





	1. Chapter 1

"Time to go," the first mate grunted from the stairs as Jamison set the last of the dynamite. He'd gone all out in loading the ship's hull with it, long thin trails of fuse snaking across the wooden floor to meet in his fist. He unwound more as they headed up to the deck, which was charred and splintered after the long battle they'd waged on it. The remaining crew sat bound around the mast, save for a few the Captain had seen potential in. The survivors had spat and sworn as Jamison's cohorts had looted the hold, hauling crates and sacks into the boats to ferry to the  _Eye of the Storm_ , which was anchored nearby. Their complaints became shouts of anger and desperation when they realised what Jamison had in his hand; his crew and theirs had been bitter rivals long enough that his techniques were well known.

"Ah, you knew what was comin' to ya!" he cackled at them, lighting the fuse before hopping the gunwale and sliding down the rope to the boat waiting below. The fuse was of his own design, treated with chemicals and measured out so that it wouldn't go off until they were safely away - and it wouldn't go out either, even if one of the crew did get the opportunity to try it. First mate Mako began rowing and Jamison listened to the crew's cries for mercy grow faint on the ocean breeze.

The waves were calm and they made good time. Jamison mumbled the passing seconds under his breath until a thought occurred to him, and he tore his gaze from the ship to speak to the Captain, who was watching the shrinking hull with equal interest. "I ah, may have gone a little overboard this time."

Jamison's tittering giggle was swallowed up by the _loudest_  explosion he'd ever heard, the hull of the rival ship blasting open like a ripe dropped melon as all the dynamite went off at once. The ocean seemed to suck their little boat down before throwing it upward on violent waves, and they would have capsized had it not been for the first mate, whose sheer weight kept them steady. Jamison uncurled from beneath one of his huge arms in time to watch the splintered remains of the ship crashing down into the ocean between them and the smoking wreckage. But good to Jamison's word, they were safe from the worst of it.

A large fist bore down on Jamison's head, hard enough to make him wince and rub the spot angrily. The first mate had a temper, but at least he was all action, so that was the only complaint Jamison would get from him on it. The Captain brought a hand up to slap Jamison fondly on the back, beard shaking as he laughed.

"We'll be sure ta tell that one good and loud next time we're in port, lad," he crowed, as they pulled up to the _Eye of the Storm_ , the woops and cheers of their crewmates welcoming them on board.

 

Time was what the crew of the _Eye_  needed now, enough to tend to their wounds and to the ship's needs, and to tally up their hard earned spoils. The Captain was keen on plans - it was what kept them afloat half the time - and so even though they'd been set upon by their enemies unexpectedly, they didn't have far to sail until they reached an island they'd scouted out before. Not only was it far enough off the trade routes that they should be kept well alone, but it had a hidden cove which would provide the perfect hiding spot.

That night they celebrated with a fire on the beach, and a feast of wild boar and grilled fish; they wouldn't go hungry here, and could bolster their supplies with enough for weeks. The hearty meal was washed down with bottles of ale and rum from the enemy's stocks, and the pirates celebrated into the small hours of the morning. Talk turned to the grand finale of the battle, comparing it to previous cases of Jamison's work, and he leapt up from his place by the fire.

"You should get yer' eye checked darl," he jeered at a crewmate who'd had the audacity to challenge it as his best work, covering one of his eyes in an impression of her eyepatch. She chuckled and tossed her empty bottle into the sand, a pink tinge on her cheeks, which were like soft leather after years at sea. "My eyesight's fine _hafid_ , I assure you."

"Then it's yer mind that's going! Today was me best and biggest yet! Ka-boom!" He flung his arms out to accompany the sound, sloshing rum everywhere and wobbling on his pegleg, earning a round of laughter from his equally drunk cohorts.

"How big was it?" Mako's voice was quiet but carried across the laughter on sheer bass alone. Jamison smirked - as he'd predicted, the big man hadn't stayed mad for long - and dipped a hand into the pocket of his weathered shorts.

"Bigger 'n this!" He threw the fistful of gunpowder into the fire with a shout, and the resulting fireball lit up the beach and set the pirates to falling over themselves with hoots and hollers. They'd all known the trick was coming, but as with all of Jamison's explosions, no-one could ever predict how far he'd take it. The last golden sparks dissolved into the inky blue above them, and Jamison turned to the water's edge, grinning from ear to ear.

He was kneeling to wash the black from his palm when he heard the splash, out in the shallows of the beach. He paused, squinting out at the silvery reflection of the moon on the water. Big ripples like those meant big fish, and he was excited for the welcome break from rations. Maybe this time the crew would even let him try his hand at fishing - bombs _had_  to be more effective that hooks and nets.

 

Jamison awoke the next morning to a dry mouth and thundering hangover, a rare thing for a pirate considering they drank more beer than water. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it, pain sparking behind them as the full glare of the sun hit him. This was _not_  his bunk. Dragging himself up, he sat hunched with an arm shading his eyes, smacking his lips and glaring blearily around.

Jamison was sprawled in the middle of a small, crescent beach, with crystal clear waters lapping his heel. Well, there were worse places to wake up. A quick squint assured him that the _Eye of the Storm_  was anchored nearby, and the pieces began to fall into place. He hadn't gotten a good look at the island before night had fallen, but it really was the perfect location for the pirates to hunker down for a while. Tall craggy peaks rose at either end of the beach, forming a natural bay, and several rocky formations dotted in the deeper waters provided cover and would prevent any ship larger than the _Eye_  from getting close. Behind him, the beach gave way to brush, then thick jungle.

Jamison hauled himself up, patting the sand which clung to his bare back and shorts, and shaking out his ponytail. He couldn't tell if he'd been the only one to crash on the beach, but he was certainly the last one up. The sounds of the ship's repair could be heard across the water, and just up the sand, racks had been constructed for the drying of freshly caught fish, of which there were many. He didn't doubt that Akande and Olivia were already hard at work in the jungle behind him too, hunting more boar like they'd eaten the night before.

Perhaps his efforts the previous day had curried him enough favour for a lie in - mercy was another unusual thing for pirates to experience. It only got him so far, however, as he was turned away from crawling back to the ship - and the cool darkness of his bunk - by orders barked loud enough to make his head ring. Grumbling, he limped off into the brush to find what he'd been tasked with, pausing to drink from a stream and feeling a little lighter for it.

A few minutes later he was sprawled on the sand beside the racks and the remains of the fire. He fanned it with a large banana leaf, causing smoke to billow over the rows of fish, keeping insects at bay. A long whip of a branch laid at his side, ready for the next opportunistic seagull to make its move. His hunt for the leaf had brought bananas, and Jamison had carried back as many bunches as he could - the crew would be delighted, if they discovered them in time to get their share. Jamison was already on his second, biting off too much in his eagerness and having to push the squishy golden mess in with his fingers.

He chucked the peel onto the smouldering coals and rolled onto his back, stretching out in the warm dry sand and breathing deep. His hangover and mood were improving with every passing moment. The silhouette of a winged assailant passed overhead, and he beat the air with the switch from where he laid, until a fat glob of white hit the sand inches from his head, and he bolted upright with a squawk to rival the seagull's.

"Feathered bastard!" He threw the switch to very little effect, and the seagull made off with a fish. Jamison ground out a sigh, knowing he'd catch an earful for this at best, and scooted over to where the branch had fallen.

His attention was brought to the water by a splash, and, he could have sworn - laughter?

Scrambling to his feet, he peered out over the shallows, blinking against the glare of the sun on the water. It flickered golden and white, obscuring his view and casting stars up behind his eyelids when he blinked.

"You get given _one_  job, Jamison," a sour voice snapped him back to where he stood, and he turned to see old Ana approaching across the beach.

"'Ey _Bruja_ , you laugh at something?" he asked, immediately regretting it as she glared from below one silver eyebrow.

"Does this look like a laughing matter to you?" She cast a hand over the empty spot on the racks, the other planted squarely on her hips; she might have been a head shorter than Jamison and more than twice his age, but pirates didn't _get_  old salt unless they were a force to be reckoned with. Especially not women pirates.

Jamison swallowed and brought the branch up between them defensively as Ana stepped around the racks, cracking her knuckles. "Give me that switch _hafid_ , or I'll beat you with your own leg instead, and maybe then you'll learn your lesson!"

 

Despite his best efforts to avoid them, Ana had managed to get a few good reprimanding blows on Jamison, his pegleg betraying him by sinking into the sandy beach. She had at least allowed him to return to the ship afterwards - on the order that he worked, rather than crawling into his bunk. _And_  that he shared out the bananas, after she'd taken her share. He'd spent the afternoon working over the canons and checking their stocks of gunpowder and explosives.

By the time dusk fell he was exhausted but blissfully rid of his hangover. Fresh fruit and hair of the dog had certainly helped; he was drinking now, up on the deck of the ship, taking in the view of the cove under the light of the full moon. But not fully enjoying it; one thing he hadn't been able to shake was the feeling of eyes on him, which now his head was clear enough to recall, had started the night before. There had been that splash in the water, and of course he'd chalked it up to fish, but then it had happened again today... and there had been a laugh, hadn't there? Or had he imagined it? Mistaken the squawking of birds in his hungover state? Surely.

Yet the feeling, of being watched, remained even now. A cool breeze rippled over the water, tousling through Jamison's hair and filling his nose with salt. He sighed, swigging down the last of his beer and leaning on the gunwale. Below, the light of the moon danced on the small waves which broke against the ship. Golden. Wait, no - that wasn't right.

Jamison straightened in surprise, almost dropping his empty bottle over the edge as he rubbed a hand across his eyes, before leaning down for a better view. He'd either drunk more than he thought, or - no, he was right. Golden light shimmered in the waters below, shifting and twisting alluringly. He was just about to call his crewmates to attention, when a huge hand grabbed him by the belt of his shorts, hauling him back from the gunwale with ease.

"Hey!" He swatted at Mako's beefy arm, but the first mate paid little attention and simply shoved Jamison toward the lower decks.

"Be careful," Mako rumbled, moving past him to bunk down for the night.

"But I saw somethin'! Like gold, down there - in the water! I think it was alive!"

Mako huffed a sigh but shot him a look over his shoulder, elaborating on his warning. "Be. Careful. Some things in the ocean want you to drown. Don't let them."

Drunk as he was, the first mate's tone struck a chord within Jamison, and he watched the hulking man leave without further protest. Rubbing his eyes again, he tossed his empty bottle aside to clatter between the canons, leaving behind the mysterious golden light and the feeling of being watched as he too turned in for the night.

 

The following morning, Jamison was quick to rise and leave the ship with purpose, lest Ana catch him idling and put him to whatever work she saw fit. He aimed to head inland, not only to explore but also to set some distance between himself and the beach; he didn't usually heed advice well, but Mako's brief warning from the night before had stuck with him. Armed with a machete and hip flask - and with a belly full of fish and bananas - he set off into the jungle.

He was able to start at a leisurely pace, utilising the paths already cleared by his crewmates and taking in the change of scenery. Though truly a man of the sea, happiest with the ocean spreading out all around him, Jamison couldn't deny the appeal of an island such as this. The way the sunlight glimmered between the leafy treetops reminded him of the ocean anyway, and with the bright blooms and varied plant-life, and the odd flash of colour as he startled a bird into flight - it wasn't unlike swimming with the fish around a coral reef. Not that he got up to much in the open waters since losing his leg, but when he'd been younger, he'd taken every chance he could to dive into that world.

There was no fun in taking the easy route, not when his entire aim was exploring, so when the cleared paths ended, Jamison chose a direction at random and struck out into the dense jungle. Close quarters combat wasn't his speciality, but no pirate lasted long without knowing their way around a machete, and he made quick work of the vines which hung down to snare him, and the thick undergrowth which aimed to trip him up. He still stumbled of course - his pegleg being what it was - but he was on an adventure! This was what it was all about! Hard work and the payoff of new sights!

Still... hacking and slashing his way through the jungle was tiring work, especially as the midday heat set in, and Jamison was grateful when the trees gave way to - _wow,_  actually - _what_  a view. He'd come out atop a cliffside overlooking a deep pool, fed by a waterfall, fast-flowing as it cascaded down the outcrop above. A fine mist hung in the air, catching in the sunlight and creating flashes of colour. Jamison might be a pirate, married to a life of grime and little glamour, but he could appreciate beauty when it was right in front of him. This place was paradise.

After taking in the sight before him, Jamison started to look for a way down to the pool that didn't involve a high-dive, and he found with it something just as alluring as the clear water below; a palm tree, growing up past the cliff. It would not only get him where he needed to go, but was hung heavy with coconuts. He'd fill his flask from the waterfall, but nothing was as refreshing as coconut water. Stretching out to grab hold of the rough trunk, he shimmied up to the fruit with surprising dexterity, hacking them free with his machete and letting them tumble to the ground below, where they landed with satisfying thuds. Getting down the tree was less simple, but as soon as he was low enough he jumped down to join them, sitting beside the little collection and taking his machete to one. He tipped his head back to drink the cool, sweet water, getting half of it down his jaw and bare chest in his eagerness.

It took two more coconuts' worth to quench his thirst, and Jamison tossed the empty husks into the water when he was done, leaning back on his hands and watching them bob and sway in the pool's currents. Just like him, they'd end up in the ocean soon enough - if some opportunistic animal didn't nab them first. A change in the wind carried mist from the waterfall over him, and he breathed deep, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of the water and the chorus of tropical birds. Occasionally he heard monkeys too, whooping in the treetops. He had no hope of catching one, but he wouldn't put it past Akande, or even Ana, who was a mean shot even with one eye. They'd eat well for weeks thanks to this island.

Jamison toyed with the idea of moving on, but when he opened his eyes again, his mind was made up. The day was only going to get hotter - and he was going for a swim.

That meant losing his pegleg though, and the last thing he needed was a mangy monkey making off with it while he enjoyed himself. A nearby bush was all he could find to hide it in though, so in it went, along with his shorts and belts and everything else. Undoing his hair from its ponytail for the first time in who knew, he scratched his fingers across the ache it left in his scalp, leaning on the palm tree for support. Then all it took were a couple of quick hops before he was half leaping, half falling off the edge into the glimmering water below and shouting for the joy of it.

The water swallowed him up, drowning out the sounds of the jungle above, deliciously cold after his trek as it seeped into all his nooks and crannies. He came up with a gasp, shaking his hair out around him before diving back under, rolling and splashing and just generally making a fool of himself, had anyone been there to see it. Freshwater! It felt completely different from the ocean, less buoyant but silkier for it, rolling against his skin. And he could open his eyes without the usual sting of salt, taking in the waterscape below, the smooth rocks and swaying plants, the little fish which flitted between. The currents flowing from the waterfall were powerful, and it took all he had to fight them, until he was beneath the crashing waters, breathless as they pummelled his shoulders and scalp. Behind the waterfall was a rocky area, and when he'd stood as much of the bracing rush of water as he could, he pulled himself to it, to lean out of the spray, breathe, and look back out at the pool through the veil.

Where someone.

Was.

Jamison's hand automatically went to his hip, but his machete was back on land - along with his clothes, leaving him trapped, _naked_  behind a god-forsaken waterfall. The running waters parted here and there, giving him just enough of a view to convince him that the stranger wasn't one of his crew; he was the only one with blonde hair, and there was no mistaking the long flow of it, bright in the sunlight. The figure seemed to be turning their head back and forth, seeking something out. Him, no doubt, though there was no way to tell their intentions, and it was only a matter of time until he was discovered. He was at a clear disadvantage - unless they were also missing a leg - unable to make a quick escape in any direction. But he could arm himself, at least. He grabbed a heavy rock from the back of the alcove, and carefully edged himself along until he could take aim at the stranger.

The rock fell from his hand with a clatter, loud enough to startle the girl into diving away with a flick of the very thing which had made him drop it in the first place, a long golden tail which whipped the waters as she dove. Jamison was slack-jawed, empty hand still raised, as he watched the shape of the mermaid coil beneath the water. He couldn't believe his eyes - in all his years at sea, he'd heard countless tales, yet never laid sight on anything he couldn't explain somehow or another. But there was no explaining this away. A real, actual, living _mermaid_.

Jamison lowered himself into the water, taking on the slow, deliberate movements of someone trying not to startle away a frightened animal as he pushed away from the waterfall. They did not suit him, twitchy as he usually was, but all he could think of was the creature before him, and how stupid it would be to scare her off - how close he was to getting a proper look at something rare. He kept near to the bank, hanging off of it with one hand, and waited with bated breath.

Finally, pale hair spread out across the surface of the water and two bright blue eyes met his. He'd half expected her to look like some kind of fish person, but no, the wild tales of beautiful women were closer than he'd ever given the drunkards who'd told them credit for. She had fine features - those he could see - and pale skin, and she was staring up at him with as much interest as he was her. Jamison suddenly remembered his situation, and lowered a hand to cover himself, which only drew her attention; he made a choked sound in the back of his throat, and tried not to cough out his first words to her.

"H-hi."

Not the most eloquent greeting, but did she even speak human language? If the tales were to be further believed, mermaids sang - lured sailors to early, watery graves, but--

"Hi."

Jamison laughed in surprise, unable to stifle it, his question answered before it was asked. The mermaid was head and shoulders above the water now, every bit as beautiful as he'd been warned, light blonde hair trailing down pale skin. Colour shimmered on her arms, and at the sides of her throat, the same as the fine golden scales of her tail, and she.. well, needless to say, mermaids didn't wear clothes. He swallowed, trying not to stare, lost for words; if she'd been a girl in a tavern at port, he'd have known just what to say. Luckily, some rusty gears in the back of his mind had finally clunked into place, supplying him with a realisation, whether it was good conversation or not.

"You.. you've been watching me." It was half a question, half a tease, and not at all, he hoped, accusatory.

The mermaid broke her gaze to look to the side, dipping to hide her mouth in the water again. Was she embarrassed?

"I'm.. sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." She raised herself up again to speak, and her accent was new even to a traveller like him, her voice melodic, enough so that Jamison half believed she _was_  luring him in with a siren's song.

"Likewise. Jus' now, I mean," he reassured her, releasing his grip on the bank of the pool and pushing out to tread water - with the aid of his hands - so that they were more on level. She seemed to appreciate this, or perhaps she'd thought he was preparing to run, and was only now emboldened to move closer. She slid effortlessly through the water, still at arm's length but circling Jamison, as if to study him from every angle. He found himself grinning, and when he raised an eyebrow at her, she tried the expression out herself; he was pleased to note that her teeth were no pointier than his.

"Do ya usually stalk unsuspecting pirates?" He asked, lifting one of his hands above the surface; she'd been watching it move in the water, and she came close to examine it, so much so that he could have touched her.

"No," she admitted blithely, distracted as she lifted one of her own hands, spreading her fingers to compare them to his, which lacked the fine, golden webbing of hers. "They're ugly, and rude."

Jamison laughed, and she bobbed low in the water again, though this time he was certain it was out of embarrassment rather than fear of the sound. "Well, you're right about that. Most would include me in that description, though."

"You're _not_  ugly," she explained boldly, though she looked torn, as though unsure about what she was saying. Jamison hadn't the first clue as to how merfolk flirted, whether this was forward by their standards. He only had her reactions to go off, and she, only his. It wasn't like he could help the smile her compliment drew out him anyway, or the warmth he felt across his cheeks.

Or the other reaction, lower in his body. Whether the change was that obvious - given the clarity of the pool - or she'd simply tired of examining the parts of him above the water, the mermaid chose that moment to submerge, and it was only by covering himself with one hand and frantically waving the other across her line of sight that Jamison got her to come back up.

"Hey now, HEY, c'mon darl," he blustered, struggling to keep afloat without the use of his hands. "I appreciate the interest an' all, but let a fella a keep a _little_  dignity! I don't even know ya name."

The mermaid wore the look of someone who knew exactly what they'd been doing, and was doing a terrible job of feigning innocence. She twisted in the water, lifting the fins of her tail above the surface, and gave him a coy look. "You won't be able to understand it."

"Now that's not fair." Jamison couldn't take his eyes off her tail, glinting in the sunlight as it slowly waved back and forth. It reminded him of something, and he breathed a quiet laugh, returning her gaze with a smile. "I've got a name you can have."

"Oh? A human name?" The tail slipped under the water, to beat against it and carry her closer, her body lifting above the surface in her excitement. Jamison didn't advert his gaze this time; she'd gotten a good look at his business, after all...

"Tha's right," he grinned, though it was only half true. At least, he'd never met anyone with the name before. "How do ya like the sound of Mercy?"

"Mercy..." the mermaid repeated it, blue eyes looking upward this way and that as she mulled it over. "Mercy, Mercy. What does it mean?"

"Well. It means.. kind. Forgiving, eh." Now that she was so close, Jamison was lucky - but not grateful - that his hands were so busy keeping him afloat. He wondered what her skin would feel like. "But if you must know, it's fer a ship. The first proper ship I ever saw, when I was just an ankle biter. _The Merciful Maiden_. Had a mermaid on the front an' all, pretty as you."

Mercy's fine eyebrows rose in shock, a webbed hand coming up to cover her mouth. "On the front of a ship? That's awful!"

"It was made of wood, darl'," Jamison laughed, and again when Mercy's look of concern remained. "Carved. To look like a mermaid. I ain't never seen a real one 'till you."

Mercy's smile returned, brilliant even against her pale skin, and she circled him again with leisurely beats of her tail, forcing him to turn in the water to keep eye contact. She giggled, and yes - it was the very same he'd heard on the beach the day before. It was even more melodic than her voice, and damnit, if she wasn't going to drown him, he might just drown himself, because he couldn't see himself leaving the pool anytime soon.

"What's _your_  name?" She broke the spell her laugh had set on him, and he blinked, surprised he hadn't told her yet.

"Jamison, at ya service. Or Jamie, if you're a friend. You are a friend.. aren't ya?" He teased, reaching out to steal a touch of her tail as she passed, and she giggled again, flicking water at him with it. "Not gonna drown me like all the sailors warn abou'?"

"I don't think so," she teased right back, before yelping as Jamison splashed water in her path. She dove under the water, sending up a shower of droplets to pelt him, but this time Jamison wasn't letting her get away. He dove down too, though with a lot less grace, awestruck as he got his first full look at her, gliding through the water. Mercy's belly and breasts were pale, but the rich gold of her tail trailed up her sides, where more of that fine, transparent webbing grew, bridging them and her arms. Her hair flowed behind her, and her powerful tail carried her with little effort where he was forced to exert himself. It was like witnessing a wild creature in its element.. actually, that was entirely what it was. He'd just never fancied a creature of legend before.

Jamison came up for air, but had barely gotten a breath in before a grip on his foot pulled him back under.

All the air he'd gotten went up in bubbles, and Jamison's eyes were wide, but the fear was only momentary, quickly replaced with surprise to find Mercy so near, her grip on his sides now instead. She was close enough to kiss, blue eyes lidded by pale lashes, her tail brushing against his leg, and the moment seemed to stretch on forever.

Then his lungs began to scream, and Mercy's new name paid its due, as she lifted him back to the surface with one strong beat of her tail.

"Sorry!" She supported him as he spluttered and coughed, and she really did sound it, though her smile said otherwise.

Jamison shook his head forgivingly, one arm over her shoulders, but he was too preoccupied to note how cool she was to the touch. When he'd finally regained his composure, he found himself nevertheless speechless, held up in the water by her much smaller frame. She was still so close, and... if he just leant in...

Mercy's head snapped around, as a deep voice called from the jungle above. Before Jamison could so much as react, she'd released him to dive deep in the pool, and in a moment she was gone, downstream to the ocean, and he was left, treading water, deflated and barely afloat.

"Jamison! Captain's going to keelhaul your lily ass." The same deep voice called once again, and Jamison scowled up into the sunshine, to see a familiar outline standing on the cliff he himself had started on. Akande, sent to find him after he'd tarried too long.

Cursing his crewmate's timing, Jamison kicked his way to dry land, and gathered up his things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pirates! Who doesn't love 'em? Thanks for reading chap 1 of my very self-indulgent fic. I promise I'll do my best to actually finish this one.
> 
> And a huge thank you as always to my wonderful Beta-reader and source of support, Ceia. Check her profile out for the best Mercyrat fics around!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the fic rating has gone up for this chapter!

Jamison’s feet pound the jungle floor, lungs burning as he sucks in ragged breaths of the thick, humid air. He can hear the crashing of bodies through the undergrowth behind, the angry snarls and shouts of the crew; they want to take what’s his - what _he_ found - and he knows they’ll kill him to get it.

His arms are loaded with his precious bounty, bunches and bunches of bright yellow bananas. They jostle and try to slip away from him as he runs but he clings tight, determined to keep every last one of them. His eyes sting with sweat and his vision blurs, and suddenly he trips on the undergrowth and is falling, falling, and he can’t hold onto them anymore. His treasures tumble out around him and when he scrambles to grab them they become little golden fish, tails shimmering as they swim, _giggling_ , out of his reach to the inky canopy above.

Jamie wakes with a shout and falls from his hammock to the hard boards below. He groans in pain and confusion, rubbing his head and his arse first of all his aching places, since he only has two hands to spare; his suffering doubles when a whooping laugh sounds behind him, and he turns his head to glare up at the crewmate who’s witnessed his humiliation.

Olivia looks like she’s going to be sick, doubled over with her arms around her belly as she convulses with unrepressed laughter.

“Shut up ya brown cunt,” Jamie spits, reaching up to his hammock to haul himself off the deck. Unfortunately the hanging fabric - being what it is - rolls beneath his weight and he stumbles and falls all over again.

“ _¡_ _Dios m_ _í_ _o!_ You are a _fool!_ ” Olivia splutters, wiping her streaming eyes before straightening to compose herself with a cough and a flick of her hair over her shoulder.

“Ahem. I’ve come to do you a favour, so mind your tongue.”

Jamie finally regains his footing and ignores Olivia’s scolding in favour of a long, leisurely stretch - or what would have been, until his battered muscles groan in complaint and he hunches back over with a hiss. He heaves a long-suffering sigh and turns to face her, peg-leg clomping loudly on the deck.

“What do you want?” He drags out, knowing better than to take Olivia’s claim at face value.

“Oh lighten up! I’ve come to invite you on the hunt. Thought you’d enjoy some time away from our dear sweet _Bruja._ I’ll even let you carry my kills - if you don’t scare all the prey away stomping around like that!”

Olivia isn’t wrong - after the hiding Ana had given Jamie the night before he’d half considered jumping ship to save himself from more. But the idea of being Olivia’s dog for the day, especially since she’s laughed herself silly at his expense, tastes just as sour.

“Aren’t you the patron saint of fuckin’ generosity,” he grumbles, brushing past her with a wave of his hand and the scraping of his peg on the cabin floor. “Thanks but no thanks - find someone else to be ya mutt.”

Olivia shrugs nonchalantly as he passes, her teasing words following after him. “Proving yourself the fool twice in one morning - I’m impressed, Jamison!”

Jamie heads straight up deck instead of stopping into the galley as he usually would; for some reason he can’t stomach the idea of bananas for breakfast. He finds the deck unexpectedly bustling, his crewmates running to-and-fro beneath the blazing sun.

“What’s with all the busywork?” He asks Lúcio, joining him at the nearest of the cannons. The chipper, dreadlocked pirate hands him the cannonball he’s carrying before tugging off his bandana to wipe the sweat from his neck.

“Cap’n wants to sail at first light tomorrow. No rest for the wicked, eh?” He sounds puffed out and his wiry frame glints in the sunlight, but as ever he’s smiling broadly, not a hint of ill feeling in his words.

“ _Already?_ We barely just got here-”

Lúcio’s speaking again, but Jamie doesn’t hear him. His gaze has drifted out across the island bay, unfocused as he realises what their quick departure means. The cannonball drops from his grip, thudding heavily to the deck by his feet - thankfully he doesn’t have any toes to crush on that side - as Lúcio yelps in surprise.

“Watch it, brother! What’s gotten into you?”

“Sorry mate, got somewhere to be!” Jamie calls over his shoulder, barrelling across the deck in time to see Olivia in one of the rowboats, about to push off from the ship’s hull. He calls for her to wait and hops the gunwale, sliding down the rope ladder at a speed which would flay the skin from less calloused hands.

“Ah, there’s my good little _chucho_ ,” Olivia says with a smirk, patting him on the head once he’s seated himself opposite her. Jamie merely rolls his eyes, their morning tiff completely forgiven now that she’s providing him with a route to the island - and hopefully, back to the pool within. When she kicks back, arms folded behind her head, he takes up the oars without so much as a grumble.

 

Despite the bruises Jamie bears from the previous night - and from his haphazard waking - the row to the shore serves to loosen his aching muscles, and by the time he and Olivia have dragged the skiff up onto the sand he feels lissom and quite ready for the hunt. They stop to drink and fill their flasks from the stream which feeds into the ocean at the end of the beach, and the feel of the cool water in his hands reminds Jamie, again, of the place he so badly wants to return to.

Unfortunately while Olivia has gotten him this far she’s also the last person Jamie has any hope of losing in the jungle. He’ll have to find some way to barter with her - or if all else fails, really turn on the charm in the hopes of wrangling yet another favour from her.

Luckily, it isn’t too long before an opportunity presents itself. The pair haven’t trekked far into the lush jungle before they come across the first of Olivia’s traps, and Jamie lets out a low whistle of appreciation. A large boar is caught fast, and though the earth around it has been gouged deep by hoof and tusk, the beast’s only exhausted itself in its attempts to break free. The snare holds fast around its leg and its mottled fur rises and falls slowly across its ribcage, the whites of its eyes dull and staring.

“Now that’s one big bastard!” Jamie coos, hands on his knees as he looks the beast over. “I can’t believe that trap held - he’ll keep our bellies full for days!”

“Mm, couldn’t have done it without you, _chucho_ ,” Olivia says, and slides her hunting knife smoothly into the boar’s neck. It lets out a weak, keening cry and the life goes out of it; Olivia’s  prey might not welcome it, but she knows how to usher in a swift, merciful death. Her compliment, however, catches Jamie quite off guard and he gapes down at her, thick brows arched.

She smirks, holding up the chord she’s loosened from the creature’s leg.

“Don’t you recognise it?”

And indeed on closer inspection he does - it’s braided after a design he’d come up with himself, and when he looks to the stake tethered at its end, finds improvements of his devising implemented there as well.

“Aww don’t look so surprised! I know I wasn’t exactly… receptive of your suggestions at first, but what kind of hunter would I be if I didn’t at least consider them?”

Sombra almost looks a little coy - a rare expression on her indeed - but it’s only fleeting, quickly replaced by her usual confident, easy, teasing grin. She straightens up and steps over the boar to lean close to Jamie… only to wipe the blade of knife clean on his shorts, leaving a smear of red against the weathered cloth.

“Really going for that sainthood aren’t ya?” He asks, eyes lidded and nose wrinkled above a pursed smile. But Olivia laughs breezily and his smile relaxes across his face - Jamie enjoys their banter almost as much as being proved right, and at the moment he’s receiving both in unexpected measure. And as for Olivia’s good mood, and his unforseen role in it… well that just might prove the very well-timed boon he’s been seeking.

“Well then, this boar isn’t going to carry itself, _chucho_.”

“Hmm…” Jamie crosses his arms and regards the carcass with an arched brow, before flicking his gaze up to Olivia.

“Not so fast - I’m thinkin’ it seems _you_ owe _me_ a favour, _cazadora_.”

Olivia rolls her eyes and gives a flippant wave of her hand. “I brought you with me didn’t I? And you got your compliment - what more do you want from me?”

“Cover for me,” Jamie cuts right to the chase, fixing his gaze on Olivia’s and speaking resolutely. “Tell ol’ _Bruja_ I was with you all day and let me go on my way.”

“Lie to Ana?!” Olivia splutters. “What on this island could _possibly_ justify-”

“You ever heard of mermaids?”

Jamie knows that regardless of what story he feeds her, Olivia will track him and stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. Better to come clean about his intention than to have her dig them up herself and somehow turn them against him.

Her fine brows arch sharply at the sudden, candid question and for once Olivia is without a retort, her lips parted wordlessly and her dark eyes fixed on Jamie. Then she squints, no doubt suspicious that he’s setting her up for a joke.

“ _Soy un pirata,_ _chucho_. Of _course_ I have.”

“Great! Well there’s one on this island and she and I are hittin’ it off just swell. The Cap’n wants to set sail tomorrow so today’s my last chance to see her and-”

“You want me to risk my hide with Ana so you can go fuck a _fish_?!”

“What!? No!” Jamie splutters.

“Of course not! I - where would I… do they even... have - you know?”

Jamie gestures toward his crotch, and when Olivia’s only response is to fix him with the most deadpan of expressions, he elaborates by motioning to hers.

“Y’know, cunts.”

“ _¡_ _Hijo de puta!_ I know what you fucking mean, Jamison!” Olivia flings her arms up in exasperation - as if her use of his proper name, rather than one of her many pet names for him, isn’t telling enough - but dons a begrudging smile as she finally shakes her head at him.

“If she has one, I’m sure you’ll sweet-talk your way into it.”

“So you’ll cover for me?” Jamie’s already turning to leave, pegleg poised mid-step as Olivia starts forward to stop him.

“Ah ah ah! You’d better be careful, _chucho!_ We have legends about mermaids back home. She’ll stay pretty while she likes you - but piss her off, and she’ll turn ugly and eat you up!”

“Sounds like every woman I’ve ever met,” Jamie shoots back with a wink over his shoulder.

“Hah!” Olivia barks at his back, but he’s already pushing through the thick vegetation of the jungle, determined not to waste any of the precious opportunity he’s bagged for himself. He hears her call out once more, voice already faint behind him.

“I hope her _coño_ tastes how she looks!”  


Jamie might not have found his way back to the pool had it not been for his own quick thinking the evening before; he’d carved notches into the trees with stroppy swings of his machete, his exaggerated motions enough to convince Akande he was sulking over being caught goofing off rather than doing anything clever. It doesn’t take him long to locate one of them, and after that he’s was well on his way.

The pool is as beautiful as it had been the day before, if not more so now that he knows who swims there. Jamie spares a brief moment to admire the view before shimmying down the coconut tree and stacking his landing in his eagerness. He’s so excited that he doesn’t even worry about looking the fool - but when he approaches the water’s edge, she’s nowhere to be seen anyway.

“Mercy!” He calls out, confident the crashing of the waterfall will be enough to mask his voice from ears within the jungle. When that fails to summon her, he sits on the lip of the pool to wrestle off his single boot and dip his toes into the water. He digs some wild figs he’d found en route out of his pockets; if he has to wait a while, he’d at least sate his empty belly a little.

It isn’t long before a soft rippling in the water draws his attention from the small, sweet fruit and Mercy’s beautiful golden head finally slips above the surface of the pool. Rather than looking pleased to see him however, she wears an expression of annoyance, her fine golden brows drawn low and her gaze angled away from his.

“Hey, there you are!” Jamie tosses the shell of the fig he’d been eating aside, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before hooking an arm around his knee and leaning forward.

“What’s wrong?”

“Who is she?” Mercy’s gaze meets his - and even without her pointed question Jamie would be under no illusions at to what it means. He’s been on the receiving end of that look before, when the ports and pubs had all blurred together and he’d ended up with his arm around the wrong wench at the wrong time - and with the right one standing over them both.

“Olivia?” He laughs, and immediately regrets it as Mercy’s lips tighten into an even more sour pout.

“She’s one of the crew, that’s all! No one at all! A mate!”

Mercy does not seem in the slightest bit convinced, and Jamie’s just thinking how ridiculous it is that he’s trying to justify that he has female friends - _human_ female friends - to a mermaid when she slips back beneath the water. His heart plummets and he’s about to throw caution to the wind and leap in after her - clothes, pegleg and all - when she springs from the end of the pool.

Her long slim body arches through the air, her tail flashing in the sunlight and sending droplets of water in a sparkling cascade behind her as she dives . Jamie jumps to his feet in time to spot her golden light heading swiftly away, down the river which flows from the pool.

Just as he’d known the expression of jealousy she’d worn, Jamie knows when the chase is on. If she’d wanted to call it quits, Mercy could have just retreated to the bottom of the pool - or never surfaced in the first place. No, she wants him to make after her; he only needs to reach her before she makes it to the sea.

Which proves easier said than done; Jamie doesn’t realise he’s left his boot behind until it’s too late, his bare foot seeming to pick out every gnarled root and sharp stone between him and his goal. But he’s tough - he’s a pirate! - and he only has one foot to injure besides. The occasional flick of Mercy’s tail above the flowing water is enough to drive him on as he gives chase, grinning as he ducks low-hanging boughs and tears through the brush.

Eventually the path of the river flattens out and broadens to a shallow cove, its flow much slower and its craggy edges replaced by sloping, sandy banks. It’s here that Mercy finally deigns to stop, and Jamie is grateful; while he’s as healthy as pirates come - and possesses more limbs than most - the thick, soupy air and heavy foliage of the jungle have conspired to wear him out. A fallen tree lays across one bank, its trunk stretching far out into the water, and it’s there that Jamie plonks himself down to rest his weary legs.

Mercy’s expression has changed completely, resembling more closely the kind Jamie had expected to be greeted with; his efforts to chase her down must have been enough to convince her of his interest. She swims over with an effortless flick of her tail and drapes herself beside him, her bare breasts pressed to the mossy log and her head tipped to rest against her folded arms.

The chase may have been draining, but Jamie finds himself suddenly… reinvigorated.

“You look different, Jamie.”

So they aren’t going to talk about what had happened back at the pool - that suits Jamie just fine. Coming from Mercy his name sounds the sweetest he’s ever heard it, and the way she gazes up at him matches it, her blue eyes intent on his beneath her pale yellow lashes. They remind him of the lapping of the azure ocean against the sandy beach, call to him the same way the waves had as a young boy seeking a life of adventure. He returns her smile with a grin and leans down to present his face to her.

“Hmm, catch a little extra sun, did I?”

Mercy shakes her head and reaches up to brush her fingers along his hairline. Her touch is delicate and cool against the heat of his brow, and he can’t keep his eyes from fluttering closed beneath it; when she traces down the line of his sideburn he angles his cheek into her palm, lips brushing her skin for the briefest of moments before she pulls her hand back with a giggle.

When Jamie opens his eyes Mercy has her hands in her own hair, gathering the golden tresses up at the back of her head with her long, fine fingers and turning her head this way and that. He realises that he’d worn his hair down the previous day and that Mercy must be seeing his ponytail up close for the first time. Reaching behind him, he undoes the ribbon it’s tied with and holds it out to her.

Mercy’s reaction is wonderful to behold. Her hair tumbles about her shoulders again as she takes the ribbon from him, running it between her fingertips with an expression of fascination - as though she’s never felt anything like it before. Which, Jamie supposes, she may well not have; if her state of dress is anything to go by, mermaids don’t have any use for fabrics.

“It’s a ribbon. Here, lemme show ya,” he says.

Jamie gently threads the ribbon back into his grip and shifts so that he can reach behind Mercy’s head. Her beautiful face and her big, blue eyes are the closest they’ve been since that moment they’d shared beneath the water; they watch his intently as he gathers her flowing locks up, carefully as he can, and fastens the ribbon around them. And just like the previous day he can’t help but lean in a just little closer… Mercy’s lips are so near, softly parted and curling into a smile of excitement...

Excitement which immediately draws Mercy out of reach again as it stirs her tail to kick away from the log, her hands rising to touch the ribbon in her hair and her voice lifting in a giddy laugh. Jamie’s disappointment at the missed kiss is short lived though, her joy - over something he considers so _normal_ \- enough to overpower it completely. She spins herself around, body lifted above the water by the powerful beats of her tail, trying to catch sight of her own hair as it flicks around behind her, and he can’t help but join in with her laughing.

The moment passes and Mercy sinks back into the water, stroking her hair over her shoulder as she turns to face Jamie.

The look she fixes him with is so coy that he almost gets whiplash.

“How do I look?”

Jamie’s mouth has gone suddenly dry, hanging open as it is, and he swallows with a lick of his lips.

“Good enough to kiss.”

Mercy’s eyebrows arch and for a brief moment, he’s is worried he’s gone too far - but then she slips through the water toward him, elegant as she is swift, her slim hands settling either side of him so that she can lift herself up and face him boldly.

“I’ve never been kissed by a human before.”

“No?” Jamie breathes, unable to tear his eyes from hers, so blue and so near. “Yer missing out.”

Mercy’s eyes crinkle with a smile, and Jamie needs no further encouragement to bridge the inches between them.

When their lips meet Mercy’s are already parted, and there’s nothing chaste about the way she sucks on his lower lip; Jamie had thought she’d be shy, that he’d need to teach her, to coax her into supplication. But Mercy is every bit as eager as he is, appears to know _exactly_ what she’s doing. Jamie laughs breathlessly, the sound quickly fizzling into a moan and his hands finding her waist so that he can draw her against him and match her energy.

Her mouth is warm like sun kissed sand, salty but all the sweeter for it and Jamie is instantly hungry for more, pushing his tongue against hers and reveling in the soft sound it steals from the back of her throat. His hands slide up her sides, relishing the coolness of her skin, his thumbs brushing the soft undersides of her breasts. Unable to resist them any longer, he slides one hand to the small of her back to support her and free his other to cup her breast, feeling the raised texture of her nipple beneath his palm. The soft mewling moan she gives against his lips is like ambrosia and her hands find their way into his hair, slender fingers winding through it, holding him close as they lose themselves to each other.

Jamie keeps kissing her even when they slip off the log into the pool. The water swallowing them up is nothing; he’d follow Mercy to the darkest depths of the ocean to keep kissing her. He suddenly understands how the sailors of story drowned, how the mermaids never meant to doom them but simply couldn’t help the effect they had on hapless men. For who among them had needed oxygen when they could have this? The mouth of a mermaid, unkissed by human lips.

Mercy guides them through the water, her long body winding around Jamie’s and keeping him pressed flush against her until they’re at the shore. As soon as there’s sand at her back Jamie pins her arms down and tears his lips from hers, gasping in lungfuls of the heavy jungle air.

“Jamie…!”

Mercy’s lips are pink and plump and shaped around his name like a moan. Jamie gets stuck just staring at them for a moment, before he follows her gaze down to where their bodies meet and realises that it’s his erection, starkly visible through his wet shorts and pressed between the two of them, which has caught her attention. He gives an experimental roll of his hips and is delighted when Mercy lets out a soft cry.

Jamie sinks onto his elbows to cover her body with his, still holding her slim wrists down as he kisses the corner of her parted lips and rolls his hips again. He’s quick to lock his lips to hers when she moans this time, swallowing it down and answering with his own, thick and thrilled.

He pulls up so that he can grin down at her, gently rocking his hips and clicking his tongue when she bites her lip to stifle her moans.

“Don’t hide that pretty voice away now,” he chastises her with another full roll of his hips. “Doesn’t it feel _good_?”

Mercy’s big blue’s flutter open to meet his gaze and she nods, replying with a soft, needy plea once she’s caught her breath.

“Yes! Please don’t stop!”

Jamie laughs and resumes rolling his hips, making sure to leave long pauses between to better tease Mercy as he scatters kisses along the curve of her jaw. It’s easy to gain access to her neck as she tosses her head against the sand and he moves down her throat slowly, leaving marks where he lavishes it with long, sucking kisses. Her tail writhes beneath his legs and he groans against her breasts, sliding his arms beneath her to pin her against him as he sucks one of her nipples into his mouth.

If things continue at this rate Jamie isn’t going to last long, and for all he knows, Mercy might vanish into the pool the moment they’re done, never to return. And even if not - he prays for it not to be so - he wants to to draw this experience out as long as he can, enjoy Mercy’s body to the fullest while she’s laid out all for him.

So he pushes himself up to kneel, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a lewd pop. He leans back and cups himself through his shorts, gaze roving lazily, languishly over Mercy’s curves.

“ _Fuck_ , Mercy. Ain’t never seen a woman to rival you before. Not on land or sea. Yer the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mercy is so intent on his hand, watching the way his fingers feel out the length of his cock through the wet fabric, that she probably doesn’t even hear the compliment. She pushes herself up onto her elbows and reaches a hand out to join his when something catches Jamie’s eye, and suddenly there’s no compromise to be had.

Jamie pushes himself to lie in the sand beside her, sliding down so that he can resume his kisses at her belly and lower, where her peach skin meets soft, golden scales. Mercy gasps when he sucks at the soft dip of her hip, and when he moves further still she reaches to cover herself, knowing where he’s going, trying to keep him from it-

But she’s underestimated his interest and he forces his way past her hands to the slit which has opened up between her scales, plain to see and impossible to mistake. He presses his face to it, inhaling deeply and smirking as Mercy lets out a cry of surprise. Sombra will be so disappointed - there’s nothing out of place down there at all.

“Mmh, wow,” he exhales with a low laugh, tipping his head to grin up at Mercy - who does not seem too impressed by his nerve. “This has gotta be the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen! How’ve you hid this away this whole time?”

“ _Jamie_!” She exclaims, but before she can push him away he’s swiping his tongue deep between its folds, rumbling with a deep-throated moan just from the taste of her. Her hands find the back of his head but instead of pushing him away her fingers twine through his hair, as a moan of surprise shakes her from head to literal tail.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Jamie hums, licking up from between the folds of her cunt to find her clit and suckle it gently. Mercy’s choked cry of response draws his gaze upward and he’s treated to the sight of her plump tits pushed together as she writhes. He slides one arm beneath where he imagines her knees would be and hooks a leg over further down, so that he can feel every movement of her writhing tail as he resumes licking her open with long sweeps of his tongue.

His efforts reduce Mercy to gasping and moaning, and as rewarding as the sounds are, Jamie wants to hear her speak again. He doesn’t care if she’s shy and shaking or begging him without reserve, so long as he’s getting to hear her beautiful voice. He uses his free hand to spread her open, fingertips stroking the sensitive folds as he envelops her clit again, groaning and rolling his tongue against it.

“Like finding a pearl in the deep,” he groans and is thrilled when Mercy reaches to cover her mouth and hold back the sob which bubbles up from it.

“Aww, hey now,” he slides up so that he can cradle her against him, drawing her hand from her mouth to his. He kisses the back of it, and when their gazes meet he’s pleased to see no waning to the fire in her eyes. She relaxes when he leans to kiss her, sighing against his lips as he slowly caresses down her belly, making his intentions clear and giving her more than enough time to stop him.

“Was it too much?”

She shakes her head, and he cocks an eyebrow, smirking against her lips.

“Oh? Not enough, then? How’s this?” He asks, gently parting and delving between the folds of her cunt, not quite fingering her yet, only teasing, feeling out her reaction.

Mercy whines and rolls her hips up into his touch. Emboldened, he presses deeper into the snug warmth, crooking his finger in anticipation of familiar anatomy and by the way Mercy quivers and gasps, he’s satisfied he knows his way around.

The position takes a little getting used to, what with Mercy having no legs to delve between, but once Jamie’s struck a good pace Mercy’s writhing does a lot of the work for him. Besides, the view is just incredible, getting to watch her plump, slick cunt swallow his fingers as he pumps two inside her. The sound of it, too, is impossibly lewd as is Mercy’s sweet voice against his ear, hitching as he grinds the heel over his hand against her clit.

Jamie’s pleasantly surprised when her cunt suddenly tightens around his fingers, sucking them in to the knuckle and squeezing down around them. So there _is_ something different to this part of her after all  Mercy whimpers in protest as he draw his fingers out and they leave her with a lewd, wet pop.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as if he hasn’t been fingering her for the last five minutes.

“I’m… so close,” she whines, managing to look coy despite the fact she’s the one who’s been _getting_ thoroughly fingered - and enjoying it immensely.

“Ohh,” Jamie coos, before his expression of innocence melts away and he smirks own at her again.

“In that case…”

This time Mercy’s hands go straight to his hair as Jamie trails kisses down her body, her grip tightening not in reluctance but anticipation when he pauses, lips millimetres from her cunt. He means to tease her but she bucks up, hands pressing him down to meet her and _fuck_ it’s the hottest thing, and he groans headily as he’s given leave to lick deep inside her. He can feel her muscles rippling around his tongue when he thrusts it in, smell her when he draws back for breath, and her moans dissolve into a repeating whimper when he sucks on her clit. It isn’t until he slides his fingers in to stroke to the rhythm of his lips and tongue that her whimpering becomes a panting chant of his name and he feels her tightening up again.

This time he continues to thrust through the clenching of her muscles and a wail tears from her, her balled hands holding him fast as she arches beneath him. Jamie groans around her clit as she bucks on his fingers and he feels like he could come just from witnessing her, with only the squirming of her tail against him to help him along.

Mercy’s orgasm ends, leaving her quiet and quivering, her hands going lax in Jamie’s hair.

“ _God_ ,” he moans, finally able to pull back and immediately reaching to free his cock from his pants. He jerks it fitfully a couple of times before gripping tightly at the base, giving it a strong squeeze. He can’t believe he’s gone this long without getting touched and yet is _still_ stood at the ready. But then, he’s never experienced anything quite like this before. Like Mercy.

She’s smiling up at him, looking serene and every part the ravished, satisfied maiden. He shifts up to lay an arm beneath her head and she heaves a sigh of contentment, but not before reaching down and across to cup her hand around his cock.

Jamie groans in surprise and her she giggles beneath him, stroking her slender fingers up the length of him.

“You’re still hard,” she observes, finally wrapping her hand around the head and stroking down with a curling, teasing motion that leaves Jamie dizzy and gasping. He buries his face in her hair, hips twitching as she pumps him, her breath warm and soft against his his ear.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to come inside me?”

It’s lucky that she pulls her hand back then because with a couple more tugs Jamie would have come entirely undone and would _definitely_ have regretted it. Mercy’s knowing giggle goads him as he kicks his shorts off and he snatches up her hands, pressing them into the sand as he straddles her just as he had before - the difference now being that they lay skin to gloriously bared skin. Or scales, but they’re so soft Jamie barely feels a difference to them.

Mercy gazes up at him, her lips parted in a tranquil smile and her arms framing her, fingers laced with his. He lifts one of her hands to his lips, kissing her palm and the inside of her wrist before coaxing her fingers into his hair. Then he reaches down to position himself and slowly thrusts inside her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growls, fighting to keep his eyes open so that he can watch Mercy’s expression, the moment she takes his cock for the first time, the way her pretty blonde brows pucker and her head tips back in ecstacy. Even though he’s worked her open with his fingers and tongue, coaxed her through a body-shaking orgasm, her cunt is still quick to tighten around him, rippling muscles drawing him in to the hilt.

“ _Mercy_ ,” he moans, rolling his hips to stroke deep inside her, overcome by her warmth and the sinful squeezing of her muscles around him. He sinks down to his elbows, burying his face in the curve of her throat as his hips snap against her. She’s quaking beneath him, taking quick breaths which leave her in soft mewls, her fingers twitching in his against the sand. He wants to hold on, wants to bring her to climax again, wants most of all, desperately, for this moment, this day never to be over. But she’s so perfectly tight around him, so pliant beneath him and he can no longer control the pace of his own thrusts. Groaning her name, the name he gave her and only the day before, Jamie grinds down one last time and spills insider her.

He doesn’t know how long he lies on top of her for, shuddering through his orgasm - it feels like it lasts for minutes, like her cunt’s milking him for every drop. Just when he thinks he can’t take any more she relaxes and he’s able to slip free, flopping to lie in the sand beside her. It’s wonderfully cool and he breathes deeply, watching the sunlight glint in the canopy above.

When he turns to Mercy he laughs to see her, pale hair pooled beneath her flushed skin and the most satisfied of smiles on her lips. She reaches out to him and he wraps his arms around her, rolling till she’s on top of him and smothering her giggles with kisses.

“That was amazing. _You’re_ amazing.”

She grins above him, the sunlight sparkling in her golden hair and suddenly Jamie can’t remember if it’s a mermaid or an angel he’s found on this island, his heart full to the point of aching. He draws her hand to his face to kiss her palm and inhale the salt, both hers and his, that’s mixed together on her skin; it doesn’t matter what she is, he decides. Not when he has her here with him, like this.

Mercy cups his face between her hands, stroking her fingers through his hair and leaning down to lay her soft lips over his.

“Thank you, Jamie. I’m glad we got to be together before you leave.”

Jamie starts in surprise, expression shifting from shocked through to guilty in seconds and causing her to laugh above him.

“You already knew? How?”

“Heard some of your ‘mates’ talking about it by the beach this morning.”

Jamie groans, head flopping back against the sand, but Mercy’s shoulders are still shaking with lingering giggles so he supposes she can’t be too mad. He rubs his hand up her back, fingers sliding against the nape of her neck, rubbing an apology into her skin.

“Sorry, Mercy. I meant to say, honest - just got carried away. We’re sailing at first light. Don’t… know when we’ll be back.”

Jamie feels terrible; not only does he now seem as though he planned to just bail on Mercy, but he has to face up to the reality that he… well, _is_ going to have to bail on her. When there’s nowhere he’d rather stay than by her side - and he can’t do a thing about it.

It’s Mercy’s turn to soothe him now, stroking his hair back and feathering his brow with soft kisses as he hides his face in her neck. Then she coaxes him to meet her gaze, her pink lips parting with a sly smile.

“There’s many hours still till daybreak, Jamie.”

  
It’s long past sunset when Jamie sets foot on the beach, but he’s relieved to see that a skiff has been left there, tethered in the sand. His absence has doubtless been noticed, any excuse Sombra conjured up for him unlikely to have held water after dark; he doubts Ana would have been kind enough to leave him a boat, so supposes he has Sombra to thank for that too. He casts his eyes out over the bay, but the only light glistening on the ocean is the full moon’s pale reflection, shining down from a cloudless sky.

But there’s gold shimmering beneath the waves when he docks at the ship’s hull, and he leans over the edge of the skiff to whisper and grin.

“Miss me _already_?”

“Yes,” Mercy titters and reaches out her hand - then squeals when Jamie pulls her up and into his arms.

“Shh! Shh, you’ll get me found out,” he scolds her between kisses, trying to stifle her giggling but giving in and joining her before she’s done.

“I wanted to give you this,” she says when they’ve calmed, opening the hand she’d held out to him.“To say thank you for the ribbon.”

Nestled in her palm is a small but perfect pearl. It glints pink in the moonlight, and the pirate in Jamie instantly recognises its worth. But he knows just as quickly, too, that he’ll never part with it, not for all the riches in the world. That the only way other hands will ever hold it will be when it’s prised from his cold, dead fingers. This tiny treasure, to remember her by, is priceless and his alone.

He rolls it from her hand to his, curls his fingers around it tightly, so small and easy to lose. She’s gazing up at him with the same expression she’d worn when he’d left her at the pool, a smile on her lips but her fine brows drawn down sadly. A brave face, that of both a woman and a wild creature, free from the tears and tantrums Jamie’s weathered before. He suspects that she’ll never stop surprising him - if he can find his way back to her, that is.

“A pearl from the deep,” he chuckles and knows by her sly grin that her choice of gift is no innocent coincidence.

He leans down and she meets him halfway for a long, chaste kiss. He cups her pale cheek and presses his brow to hers, wants to dive and swim in the bright blue of her eyes.

“Thank you. I’ll come back, I promise. Even if I have to turn the ship around by m’self - I’ll find my way back here to you.”

“I know you will,” she says, stroking her slim fingers through his hair. “My Jamie.”

He watches as she slips beneath the water, her gaze on his until her golden glow is swallowed up by the inky blue. He’s left alone with nothing but the rocking of the boat beneath him, the soft sound of the waves, and the press of the pearl, tucked beneath his thumb.

When he climbs above the gunwale Ana’s stood waiting, arms crossed over her chest and a knowing glint in her single eye.

“Good evening, _hafid_ . Did you enjoy yourself today? You had the Captain _so_ worried...”

With nowhere to run and no excuses left to offer her, Jamie heaves a resigned sigh and faces his fate with a grin.

“Thanks Ana. Y’know what? I’d have to say I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta [Ceia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceia/), who is my mercyrat rock. And you, for reading this! And especially anyone who waited the _9 months_ it's taken me to post more ;)


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